


tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again.

by PansexualDonnaNoble



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Father Daughter relationships, Gen, Healing, Mentioned other characters - Freeform, Self Esteem Issues, Self Loathing, a kick to the balls, cliff deserves happiness but also, fathers suck, introspection floating through the implied/referenced past child abuse, niles just deserves a kick to the balls, post space patrol, probably canon divergence by the end of the season maybe, space patrol spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansexualDonnaNoble/pseuds/PansexualDonnaNoble
Summary: Cliff's more affected by Niles' parenting while floating through space than he thought he was.
Relationships: Clara Steele & Cliff Steele
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again.

**Author's Note:**

> 30 works huh . wack. and its not a connor fic.... good god. :(

Honestly, he's pretty ticked off.

Getting sucked out into the endless, shivering, godless, thankless, _nothing_ of space tends to piss most people off. He thinks he's entitled to be a little f _ucking unhinged_ after something like that.

Seriously _who does something like that?_ Who fucking sucks a guy out into space? Who did he think he was, James Bond? And after everything he'd done for him today wrangling his daughter - the two faced, small dicked, little snake -

There's been an attempt the last five seconds to articulate all of this out loud. But nothing is coming out, he just keeps rolling through a silent, watching, void, and it's kind of distressing admittedly that the only sound granted was the useless panicking of his own thoughts.

_Stop screaming._

He feels small. He feels miniscule, _again._ He's completely alone and what did he have? Stars? Planets? They could just watch.

Space was kind of soul crushing. All it does is watch and mourn. _Why does anyone come up here?_

How the fuck was he even _alive?_ He doesn't fucking know the mechanics of space, _he was a racecar driver for fuck sake._ Maybe his head's protecting the only part of _him_ that he has left. If he's been told, he's already forgotten. It's the only theory he has, other than maybe God loves him suddenly. Fat fucking chance at that.

He hopes Jane is okay.

Maybe the wax was just... some kind of weird joke between them. Or a prank. It'd wear off soon. Dorthoy....

She was... a lot. But he doesn't think she's as fucked up as Niles makes her out to be. He's _definitely not believing_ anything he says after this anyways. He's gonna punch him right in his fucking dick, _directly in his balls_ for this.

They were all fucked up and he's sure if _they_ all banded up they could destroy the world themselves too. The kid wasn't alone with that. Rita was... Rita. Vic was a straight up _Cyborg,_ Jane's system had an alter that _was made of fire,_ and also _Hammerhead,_ and Larry was lethally radioactive with some electric alien being inside of him.

And he couldn't do much but... no fuck that, he could easily destroy the world too if he wanted!

He doesn't. Not really. Most days. But...

...

He hopes he doesn't find whatever's inside Larry out here. He wouldn't be able to cope with someone else inside of him right now. No one should live inside of something that is so angry and a huge fuckup. And bandages couldn't really help him.

He passes Pluto. Is it Pluto? Waves of vaguely golden beige and dirt brown spots like seas of filthy ground. Pluto's still a planet, right? It's small, and alone, and ugly. Fuck what anyone else says, its ok with him.

Can he... magically suffocate already? He's tired. A bone deepness without any. bone. He's thinking too much.

Cliff can't stop thinking about Dorthoy. Floating through space gives you a lot of downtime. But...

She went all the way out here. Because she knew Niles was ashamed of her. Or thought he... hated her.

And she wasn't wrong. Niles can say what he likes, but he's not sure there's any actual love to his concern and worry. Just the dehumanizing parental urge to control.

So, ok, he hates her. But how was he supposed to tell an eleven year old her father did in fact, hate her? Was that even his place? "Hey, kid, yeah sorry, but your dad thinks you're scary, and evil, and he's only interested in controlling you" Shit, his old man told him worse at a far younger age than hers. Maybe she'd be fine with it.

Was he?

No, it's a dumbass thought. He wasn't ok with it. He's fucking pissed off at his father, all these years later. Fuck that guy. All he ever did was yell or hit, or see things that went wrong in his life as Cliff's fault, hell he'd be grateful he was controlling, at least it meant he gave a shit at all about him or his life or his future. And didn't think he was...

A disappointment. Which he was. Look at him, a pile of machinery, fueled by a fucking brain. His wife is dead, the one he continuously cheated on, his career is over, his daughter doesn't want to talk to him, and now he's stuck in fucking _space._

He was a disappointment before the accident and he'll die a disappointment. His father was an asshole, who was never meant to be one, but he was right with that part. He's nothing but atoms that form and shape and hope just to become something unlovable, and hope to become something less angered.

...Christ. He really thought that didn't he? Maybe therapy _was_ a good idea.

He's so fucking angry.

He misses Clara. He doesn't know why. Maybe all the self loathing and bad parenting goes hand in hand with her. She's nothing like any of that. Though.

It's probably a good thing she didn't grow up like either of her parents. At least her kid will have a chance now. A steele that isn't hit with shitty self centered parenting, or parents that fucking hate each other.

Larry was right wasn't he. They fuck them up.

He's been so afraid of becoming like his father, or god, even worse _Niles_ that in his smashing and swearing and overall _burning rage,_ he hadn't noticed he already _had._

And fuck. It's sobering. It's not... like he meant to. Or wanted to. He just - Ahhhhrg! He's so angry, at everyone, at everything, at God, at the fact that he's lost fucking _everything._ That it's all _his fault._ His fear's manifested as rage for as long as he could remember.

Endless Cycles. Huh. It's all one endless cycle. A shitty parent parents a poor kid and that poor kid shitty parents another poor kid. Trauma after trauma after more trauma.

When did it end?

...

What the fuck was he meant to do.

He can't make Clara go through life like that. Maybe it'll kick in a couple of years. But he can't let her end up like him. Maybe it's too late. Fuck if he knows.

Shit. Fuck. Fine. If he makes it through this, he'll try making amends. He'll... go back. Apologize. _Try to_ at least before she calls the cops on him again. God, please let him live. Who the fuck is he even praying to? "Hey, God, it's Cliff Steele, let me live and I promise i'll do and be better?" What the fuck? "Hey, Cliff, it's God, I heard your prayer, and your tab on promises is too high. You fucking degenerate. Sincerely, someone even more unreliable than you."

Hey is... He squints, getting a look in inbetween each aimless, weightless, somersault. Sky blue morphed with... with thunderous holy white and mountain and faint greens.

Is that... Is that... Earth he's hurdling towards...?  
\-------------------------------------------------------------

It turns out, after hurdling through a billboard and smashing into the ground, and dealing with everything that comes from that, and getting to finally _punch Niles in the dick_ when he sees him again, all the introspection and nerve from space sticks with him.

Fuck. What was he even doing here?

Maybe she's better off without him back. Would she even believe him?

Florida still fucking sucks. Especially this time of year. It's hot, humid, and every bug in the world thinks his crimson eyes are the most interesting thing in the goddamn world.

Her house is beautiful. It's the type you'd drive past when you get all turned around on accident and be like 'wow. I bet those people are functional. I bet they wake up every morning grateful to be alive, snort a little coke, and walk up to someone on the street and easily start up a conversation with strangers before going to yoga class.'

Apart from the coke, he can't help but wish that for her. Even if yoga sounds insufferable.

This was a mistake. He's a shitty fucking father and coming here is proof of that.

He glances at the giraffe in his hand. Flickers of half remembered memories. Shattered glass. Screams.

 _Stop pitying yourself._ Shitstain. i _t's not about you._ Doesn't matter anymore if he's a good or bad father.

He swaggers up to the front door, glancing back and forth between the giraffe being strangled in his grip and the door. Was this selfish? This was selfish.

 _It was selfish._ Fuck.

He could turn back. Go back home. Stop being such a fucking cock gremlin.

No. He's not going to.

 _Fine._ He thinks. _But cool it on the anger, dipshit._

Kids shouldn't and don't owe their parents anything. Not like they asked to be born. Clara doesn't owe him anything here today.

One. Two.

He knocks. He doesn't mean to be loud, he's not even sure she's home. It just sort of happened.

...Maybe he should go home. He should, shouldn't he? What was he even expecting from all of this? Wouldn't this just cause more damage? He's so _stupid,_ He should leave...

The door opens. He nearly drops the giraffe. Ok. Never mind then.

Clara's eyes settle and land on him, a look of shock and disbelief mixes into apprehension once his appearance fully sets into the air. She looks about even _more_ ready to burst than last time, heavily pregnant with... with his _grandchild._ She visibly take a small step back, that he realizes is more of a movement to shut the door on him. But he shoves his foot between it, freezing it.

Clara looks between his foot, and his face. It'd be comical, if she didn't look so concerned.

"Give me ten minutes. Please." He cuts through the tense silence before she does. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. I..." He holds up the giraffe again, as if it could help. There's a soft whir of his body as he does. "I just want to talk. Please." He moves his foot out of the doorway as a show of good faith.

Clara's gaze hardens in confusion and distrust. Blood red lips tightening and pursing with small crackles of hidden interest. She must think he's insane. _That's fair._ She has every reason to close the door on his ass.

She doesn't. For whatever reason. Glancing at the giraffe in his hand before minutely opening the door in his favor. Wearily, she considers him.

"Seven minutes, w-"

"Eight. It's a long story." He negotiates, coming through the doorway.

"Seven."

"Nine?"

 _"Seven."_ It's firm, traces of aggravation linger. As in, _I can't believe the balls of this madman._ "Seven minutes. When its up you leave. And you don't come back here again, or i'm getting a restraining order. Touch me, and i'll call the police right now. Got it?"

He fidgets. Audibly whirring. Unsure of what he wants and expects from all this. He's making her nervous. Fuck.

"Ok." He dejectedly settles. _He wants to hug her._ "Can... can we sit down somewhere and..."

Soft chocolate curls bob sideways. She holds up a small hand. "Um. No. Sorry. I'd rather stand." Her tone is slightly wobbly, and he thinks she might be expecting him to lunge at her.

He doesn't know what to do to make himself less menacing. He can't really... shrink, or... get rid of the robot part of him. He feels like he should apologize. But doesn't.

"I know... it's hard to believe, but i'm um... uh... your father. Yeah. I know. But... please just hear me out."

She doesn't interrupt him. And understandably doesn't remotely seem convinced by it. Mainly just unnerved.

He blinks. The fuck was he supposed to do for that?

"Uh." He sighs. "When you were three, you got outside when the nanny wasn't looking," He begins, leaving out the part where she wasn't watching her _because he was having sex with the nanny._ "you made it to the swimming pool, and climbed up on the diving board. You tripped, and cut your arm against it before you fell in. The maid saw you, and got to you before anything bad - well anything more bad happened, but... you got a scar on your left arm behind your elbow because of it. It's kind of shaped like a 'C' actually."

She's taken aback by it. Squinting up at him, uncrossing her arms. A breath escapes her. He's not sure if its enough, though, so he tries again.

"When you were two, you were obsessed with _The Bees Gees,_ fuck if I know why, because who the hell listens to disco music you know? But everytime it came on the radio you'd giggle and rock back and forth in your carseat. When you got older you'd beg and beg and beg that we get an album of theirs. But we never did, because, and I quote, 'If you make daddy listen to Stayin' Alive one more time it's not going to be an accident when my car drives into the pit crew.' That was kind of fucked up of me to say. Sorry about that.

He should have gotten her an album. Who the fuck cared if it was disco?

This gets more of a reaction out of her. It actually doesn't seem positive. She looks like she swallowed a frog and is going to cry about it. Which... ok fair. Finding out your dad that you thought was dead is alive, and looks like a fucking robot, has to be hard for anyone to digest.

He wants to hug her. He doesn't want to be thrown out however. So he keeps his distance.

"I'm sorry it's me." He says softly. Tender like a purple, throbbing, bruise. "I'm sorry your mom isn't here." He stares at his feet.

Clara sniffs, inhaling. She doesn't come closer or seemingly wants to, and that's... still fair. He guesses. "Uh... Wow. Okay. Why... Why... how are you here then? I... why now?"

"It's a long story. This asshole saved me by putting my brain into what you see now. Let me sucked out into space, seriously, _again,_ who does that? And he told me you were dead just like your mom. I guess I just... I don't know. Felt like I had or was becoming my dad."

"You never talked about him. Wait you... you were serious? You're... your brain..."

"That's because he was a fucking dickhead. Like I am. I'm sorry. I can't believe I let _Bump_ be a better father than me. Bump!" He doesn't hear her wrapping her head around the brain part. He's trying to not get angry. It's fucking _hard._

"That woman that was with you before... the one on the bus with you. Was..." Clara swallows, looking distant. "Was she your daughter? Did you start a new family?"

"Huh?! Jane? No, she's not my daughter. She's a friend. Like family, I guess. A really dysfunctional family. I kind of stumbled onto it i guess. But i'd never do that. I don't even have a penis anymore, Clara. Uh - sorry I told you that."

"O...kay. Um. did you really fight an alligator? Frances?" She asks. Eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yeah. Fuck that thing. Fuck that thing! Tried to eat my ass but I fucked it up! Look, Clara i'm..." He trails off. And tries again.

"I'm sorry I was such a shitty father. I was. Maybe not as shitty as other fathers but still shitty. I was selfish. I know apologizing won't take it back. I'm sorry you had to call the cops on me. I thought you owed me patching things up but... I get it. You know? And, shit, you don't owe me anything, and... fuck. I guess I wanted peace. Or something. I didn't mean to fuck everything up. Even before... becoming this."

Clara watches him rant and ramble. When he's finished, she takes a moment before she speaks. Absorbing it all.

"I... okay. Thank you for your apology," She glances down at her protruding belly, feeling, fingers spread over it. "I'm not really sure what to say. I... d- dad this is all um... a lot to take in at once, you know?"

He sighs. Long. Like Larry does. "Yeah. Yeah it probably is. Huh." He reaches, handing out the giraffe in his hand. "Uh. Do you want this? Hey, what's that little guy's name anyway?"

"Girl's. It's a girl." She corrects. Hesitantly taking the animal away from him. The frog look comes back. "We're not sure yet. Gwen, or Rita, or Stella, maybe..."

"Stella? Stella Steele? Not Cliff? Cliff can be a girl's name right?" He jokes. "Girl name boy name names are just kind of names anyways. You can't name her Rita, I know a _Rita."_

Clara actually laughs this time. Looking at him finally. They grow silent.

"Do you think you'd want me? In her life I mean. In uh... yours?"

He's trying to not sound so fucking eager. Trying to not say 'please. Please let me see you again and try harder this time.'

It takes her a long while to answer him. Before,

"I... i'm sorry. This is all a lot. I think I just... need time. To... absorb all of this. I don't know yet. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear but..."

He's thankful he doesn't have facial expressions anymore.

"No it's... I get it. I'd be freaked out too if my old man came back as a robot y'know? Uh... no it's... yeah."

"Yeah." It's watery. "Come back in a week. Maybe i'll have processed it? I'm due by then so... if you want... Gwen, or Stella, or Rita, or... Cliff... might be able to see you then. But... just give me a week ok? Please. I need..."

"Space. Yeah. I get it." He says.

He could do space.


End file.
